Phillies Phriday Phracas

 Yes, this post will be classified as a rant, so stop reading now if you desire to do so.

In case you haven't heard, the Philadelphia Phillies won the 2008 World Series this past week (sidenote: although I still don't quite get why they're called "World Champions" since MLB is only in the U.S., but nevertheless....) and Philadelphia decided to have their Celebration Parade on Friday, the 31st. Why a Friday, I will NEVER know.

So, Friday morning comes, and I get ready to go to my rotation in North (thank goodness for once) Philly. The train station where I get on was slightly more crowded than normal for the 7:14 a.m. train--but no biggie. The ride in was uneventful, and I got to my rotation on time (or close enough, anyway).

Since the Phillies Parade began at noon, my preceptor decided to let us go at 12, so we could go to the Parade, although none of the 3 of us were attending said parade, but were we going to say anything?!? No.

So, I left school at 12:30 and walked my 2 blocks to the subway. The subway came and we made our way south to City Hall/Suburban Station. The ride took a little longer than usual, but I still had time to make my 1:14 p.m. train.

We reached City Hall at about 1 p.m. to literally a SEA of people waiting on the platform to go further south to the stadium. For any of you familiar with the Philly subway, there were people jammed from the yellow line on the Express side all the way to the yellow line on the Local side. IT WAS INSANE. And everybody was in red. I almost had an MI. "How the BLAZES am I going to make it through?!" I was still wearing my labcoat (thank goodness) so I basically plowed through the crowd. Said "'Scuse me, sir" about 4000 times while walking the yellow line--so close to basically being shoved off the platform onto the subway tracks. At one point, I heard a man yell out, "Whoa, we gotta doctor here!!" I kept moving.

What seemed to be like a half hour trucking through this madness, I then appear in Suburban Station which connects the subway to my train to take me home. Just. As. Crowded. "Yeah, I am definitely missing my 1:14 train. And the next one isn't till 2:14."

The crowd slowly came to a stop. At which point I took this picture.

Imagine this EVERYWHERE, and you have a correct illustration. NO organization on SEPTA's part WHATSOEVER. The train monitors were off-line since the train schedules were so jacked up. You couldn't hear the P.A. announcements--basically every man for himself. I found my train stairwell, as did a million other people. So we're basically all standing there crammed against strangers unable to move. I was there for TWO hours standing in ONE spot. And here is a sampling of what was occurring around me:

• Crying kids
• Adult males cussing at each other because apparently there were too close (REEEEEALLY?!?!)
• Drunk college kids serenading the crowd with old tunes by the BackStreet Boys, ChumbaWomba, and E-A-G-L-E-S, EAGLES! That lasted maybe 30 minutes until a 20-something female in front of them, swung around and SCREAMED: "WOULD YOU STOP F***ING YELLING IN MY F***ING EAR!! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!"  And of course, this brought on multiple "BOOOOOO"'s and what almost turned into a cat fight, which if happened there was no stopping it since the ONLY policeman around was helping with someone who fainted on the stairs.
• Adults yelling at middle-schoolers (who, yes, should have been in school) who were butting in line

Well, as the clock neared 3 p.m., my train finally came. Now, picture this: The crowd is all upstairs. So to board the trains, one has to descend the stairs to the platform. Well, the SEPTA employees gave the go-head and the crowd basically lunged for the stairs. I tell you this: never before have I ever been involved in a stampede, and now I know why people can get killed. These people were CrAzY. Once I reached the bottom of the stairs, it felt like I just made it to the other side of the Underground Railroad. SUCH FREEDOM. Children were seriously in shock, some crying/shaking because I am sure they just witnessed the worst thing that had ever happened to them.

So, I am on the platform now waiting for my train. I glance over and see one of my patients that comes in to where I work. Well, he makes eye contact with me, and SCREAMS over like hundreds of people: "HEY! THAT'S MY PHARMACIST!!! HEY!! RITE-AID PHARMACIST!!" I about died (again). I looked at him like, "Are you out of your mind?!?" So, now I am pretty sure I am redder than my Temple patch, and have EVERYONE staring at me. So, then I get the questions from those nearest me:

• "Where do you go to school?"
• "Oh yeah? My _____ went/goes to Temple." (like I know them......)
• "How long do you have left?"
• "How long is pharmacy school, anyway?"
• "Do you like it?"
• "What are you going to do when you're done?"

My train couldn't come fast enough.

Finally, we board the train. And wait. We didn't leave Suburban Station till 3 p.m. It was already crowded on the train, so it was standing room only, even in the corridors where the signs say NO ONE IS PERMITTED (except on really busy days apparently). I was standing at the end of one of the cars, and a nice woman was sitting right below me, so that my belt was basically in her ear. I still had my lab jacket on, because it was hiding the sweat that had poured out of my armpits during my stand-a-thon. She took noticed and we started small-talk. She drove into the train station from where she lives in Mechanicsburg, and mentioned that her brother graduated from Temple Pharmacy School, but back in the eighties, and who now works for Astra Zeneca. She then said, "He also works for, well, what used to be Eckerd, one day a week." I about passed out. Turns out, her brother is one of the pharmacists that I work with! Freaking small world--out of the MILLIONS of people there at the parade, I run into the sister of one of the pharmacists I work with. So, that made the trip sort of end on a good term.

I got to my car at 5 p.m.---4 & 1/2 hours AFTER I left school.

But I can NOT wait to read the Metro this week, to read about all the complaints that SEPTA riders gave them about how AWFUL it was on Friday.

They (SEPTA) should have planned for 4 million people AND Philadelphia should have had it on a Saturday!! Common sense to me!

Would you be my neighbor?

    Thought this was pretty good (sorry for the cuts, but had to make sure you could read it):

Currently Listening Jordin Sparks By Jordin Sparks "One Step At A Time"= best song around. see related

Oh, Coatesville

This is taken from the Daily Local News, July 17, 2008, and I thought it was right on the money:

And this follow-up was just as poignant:

http://www.zwire.com/site/index.cfm?newsid=19868776&BRD=1671&PAG=461&dept_id=17782&rfi=8

Hopefully, we'll get this in our heads and straighten up this ghetto.....

Currently Listening Hit Me Up By Gia Farrell HIT ME UP, from Happy Feet! see related

Oh, Philadelphia

So, on my way into Philadelphia for my dental appointment today, I took SEPTA like I always do and have done whenever I travel to Philadelphia. So, I get off the train and walk to the subway to catch that north to Allegheny where my dentist is. As I am waiting for the subway, a female (note) walks up behind me, pulls her pants down, squats, and proceeds to relieve herself (voiding) onto the subway platform, literally feet from me. I turn around, and say to myself, "OH....MY......WORD......" and briskly walk away, shaking my head. Another black woman who was waiting as well, saw what was happening and says out loud, "Oh my G--, are you SERIOUS!?!?!"

And this is why I hate Philadelphia. Mayor Nutter has his hands full, that's for darn sure.

A funnier note: on my way home, I had to purchase a ticket for my return train ride, so I am helped by a black female SEPTA ticket agent. I gave her my credit card with driver's license (since I have on the back of my card "SEE I.D.") She read it, and returned it, saying, "Must be somethin' with the name," and proceeded to roll up her right sleeve to above her shoulder, revealing a large tattoo engraved "Eric" in cursive tattoo ink. As I was laughing, she said, "Yeah, he was tha luv of my life----BACK in tha DAY." My mouth hurt already post-dental appointment, and she made it worse. Oh, so glad that SEPTA is slowly improving their customer service image.

Unrelated, I do have to share this one political thing that I LOVE. Everyone is hatin on President Bush, and they are entitled to their opinion, so long as they voted in the previous two elections. I found this article to be uplifting for me, a still-proud-President-Bush-is-my-President kinda guy:

http://www.philly.com/inquirer/front_page/20080526_On_Memorial_Day__a_wounded_vet_s_journey_back.html?adString=inq.news/front_page;!category=front_page;&randomOrd=062908033250

"Hennagir and Hardin said they still support the president and the war. When asked about the president's loss of support in the polls - primarily because of the war - Hardin expressed their position best: "Let somebody else try being president for a day. He's doing a great job." Hennagir added: "Every president gets hated by the end of his term."

I think it's important to note that our servicemen and women still support President Bush and his goals. Granted there may be some that totally disagree with him, but I think (unless I am naive) that many of our armed forces agree with us being in Iraq.

And that is all....until next time.....

The End of an Era

   (as posted on my facebook site)

Today, March 14, 2008, marks the end of an era. It is with bittersweet emotions that I am writing this note. Hours ago I said good-bye to my car, yes, my car, which had been under my ownership for almost 10 years. Having bought my first car for $2500 on July 29, 1998 with 77,000 miles on it, the light blue 1988 Chevrolet Beretta would be my very first vehicle. Some (o.k., one) referred to it as PA Blue--I referred to it as: DLK-2418, it's plate. (I refuse to name cars. I think it's weird. Do you also name your refrigerator, oven, and washing machine?? End side-note.)

Like its name bears, my Beretta acted just like it should:

http://www.berettausa.com/product/product_pistols_main.htm

Always "firing" faithfully every morning.

That car brought me through my senior year of high school and then 4 years of trips to Ohio for undergrad, then a year and a half of commuting to DCCC in Marple, Sharon Hill, and Downingtown, not to mention my jobs at Eckerd and Krapf's. It has served well when I had to respond to the fire house for emergencies, never leaving me stranded and missing a call I was due on. It suffered few 1-car accidents and fewer 2-car accidents, none my fault as far as I can remember. It has also suffered a couple vandalisms: broken driver's side window, and the words "F*** you, Ho" written on my rear bumper along with a nice swirly design via a rock on my trunk and entire length of the passenger side (I think they got my car mistaken for someone else's....).

My mother, out of the kindness of her heart, paid for my car to be professionally repainted by Maaco a few years prior to the vandalism, which transformed my car into a dark blue shiny new machine. Several years prior, its inside roof was re-upholstered, and never sagged again after that. Post-vandalism, my Mom thought she became certified in car detailing, and "covered" up the vandal's marks with blue spray paint, only slightly different than the dark blue. (See pictures below). Also, those aren't chrome wheels, my friend: those are wheels that had been spray painted silver, courtesy of Mom's Detailing. She also caulked the edges of my windshield since when it rained, water would leak into the vehicle, leaving often puddles on my floor.

I retired it at 162,000 miles, making 85,000 miles those I put on in 10 years, and after 410 (yes, I've kept track) gas tank fills.

It had only been pulled over once by the police, and never ticketed, besides a few parking tickets. It got me through snow storms and heat waves, one winter without heat and every summer without air conditioning.

Thank you Chevrolet for manufacturing such a great piece of workmanship. Should you (GM) ever decide to re-model the Beretta in coming years, know that I will be among the first few to purchase such a fine machine. Cheers to you, General Motors.